Mad Girls
by QuinnSalvatore
Summary: (Loosely based of Mad Men setting) When Rachel Berry lands a job in the biggest advertising agency in New York, she never expected that it'd be her bosses wife that would be her silver lining.
1. A New Beginning

Dear readers,

Firstly I must apologise for not continuing my other fics, hopefully I will get back to them soon. And secondly, perhaps more importantly, I promise to do this idea justice and – to my best ability – update this one as much as possible. Since I'm reading Revolutionary Road in English and am studying the role of women in the 1950's, I decided to combine one of my new favourite shows (Mad Men) with the wonderful couple that is Faberry. With my warmest regards, please enjoy.

"Yes that's Rachel Berry, R-A-C-" the short brunette pronounced each letter with such integrity that it was as if her life depended on it, but then again in some way it did. When Rachel Barbra Berry first found out that she'd gotten the job at Sterling Cooper's advertising agency she knew for certain this was the start of something incredible. Deep down the young girl was always pensive towards the fact her parents hadn't wanted her to go into work, but somehow the address of Madison Avenue (New York City, of course), seemed to be worth the entire struggle. Her mother had always imagined that she'd marry an office worker of some sort, or maybe one of those door to door sales men. Whilst her father always believed she had the hands that would sell a thousand cook books, even donning her an apron on her twentieth birthday. But Rachel never wanted new cooking appliances, and hair rollers never took her fancy – and the very idea of a house with a picket fence and linoleum flooring made her skin crawl with dread. Rachel wanted to work, and she wanted to do something she was good at – she just wasn't sure what that was quite yet. Getting into secretary school was a triumphant curse, but she was glad that after some pleading her mother sacrificed her good box of nylons and her father the sum of three semesters at the prestigious female academy. It was all worth it now though, because this was the big guns, this wasn't Brooklyn anymore, and she wasn't just Rachel – she was Miss Berry, secretary to the biggest creative director of the hugest advertising company in the whole of America, maybe even the world.

"I know how to spell Rachel, dear" the taller woman cooed in a sweet accent that was much more prestigious that Rachel's own rough drawl. "Let me show you to your new desk now" the lady added with authority after filling in the last paperwork that Rachel had clumsily handed her. She could feel her cheeks glow crimson as she weaved her way through all the other desks in the fairly large room. She couldn't help but take in all the other woman that clattered away on type writers and wore their nylons in a way that Rachel believed she never could. Even though she didn't initially see anyone younger than her (actually some of the ladies had definitely passed their prime, but Rachel tried her best not to judge), they all seemed so – _accustomed_. They looked as comfy and settled as she herself did at home with her records. But there was more to them, there was definitely something else. It was the one thing they all had in common no matter what color their hair or even their age – they were all beautiful. It wasn't in a natural way though, as the smell of perfume spiralled into Rachel's lungs the moment she'd walked through the door. It was the forced kind, the kind that required hours of prepping those curls and early mornings to apply that thick layer of melba peach lipstick, and definitely a lifetime of saying no to chocolate to get those figures. They showed just enough, but somehow managed to stay away from the look of the girls that worked the bars. Rachel was so entranced that she was completely blindsided to the way the office men looked at those girls too, which was probably the secret to their sense of style.

"Rachel?" The woman who was guiding the small brunette asked. Rachel tried to remember what she said her name was, but she just couldn't. Was it Betty? It couldn't have been. Or maybe it was Samantha. She'd known a Samantha back at the secretary school. Maybe it was the tall glass building or perhaps it was the majestic woman herself, but either way Rachel was lost in every way possible.

"Yes?" She asked apprehensively, clutching the cardboard box with her belongings tightly to her panting chest.

"I said this is you" the ladies dark amber eyes jolted to the empty desk closest to the row of office doors. Rachel quickly dropped her stuff on the wooden surface and tried to regain her stance, feeling more and more self conscious of her humble long skirt and knitted cardigan. She just didn't seem to fit in. The ladies eyes caught Rachel's own and let out a sigh. "I know honey, they just don't specify those sort of things in the letters now do they?" Rachel shook her head in response, feeling the heat flow back to her cheeks as she took in the others woman's outfit. The emerald material clung to her curvaceous figure in ways that Rachel's never would, and her neat and tightly packed locks seemed to sway with a flirtation that Rachel straight limp hair wouldn't dare to try. She held back a tremble as she tried to keep herself together. Feeling the comforting hand of the woman on her shoulders, Rachel stiffened up in attempt to hold her posture. "You got the goods; you're just marketing it all wrong. But you're in luck, okay? Because advertising is what we do best here" a smirk played up on her luscious pink lips and Rachel couldn't help but mimic the same one. She felt something slip into her hand and looked down to see a business card for some kind of retail store. "You ask for Rodger, tell him Amber recommended him. He'll sort you out, and I'll just help tie up the loose strings."

"Thank you" Rachel blurted out as she gripped onto the card, instantly placing it safely into the box with the rest of her belongings and quietly beaming at the fact that she now knew her mentors name. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you mean by lose strings?" she felt her throat hitch at the question in fear of a response she dreaded. Was this just a trial? Was it possible that she hadn't gotten the job? She couldn't imagine the disappointing train journey back to Brooklyn, and the very thought of it sent a herd of butterfly's rampaging through her stomach. However, Amber looked bright as the sun, a trait that Rachel believed would be a motif no matter what the situation. She perched her perfectly rounded hips on the edge of the wooden desk and looked up at Rachel with a bat of her eyelashes.

"This place isn't just about writing letters, you realise" she started in a tone that made Rachel feel even more nervous than before. "I'm making it my responsibility to let you know how this place works, and more importantly, how to treat your boss."

"Which is you?" Rachel hesitated, a statement that received a soft cackle of laughter from Amber.

"Oh no honey, _him_." Amber replied in the same confidence that beamed from every aspect of her. Rachel slowly followed her eyes towards Ambers gaze and read the sign on the closed office door nearest to her. In golden typed letters it read the name 'Paul Draper, Creative Director' on the door, Rachel instantly felt a surge of embarrassment once more as she remembered who actually hired her. However, as she looked closer she could see the shadow of a man behind the opaque glass wall, and if she listened hard enough she could just make out the echo of a male voice. Rachel only looked away when she found Amber staring at her, the smirk still in a place. "You'll be fine" she reassured with an almost roll of her eyes "Just...give him what he wants. That's the rule of the office" she added with a reassuring roll of her shoulders.

"Right. The rule of the office" Rachel repeated, her naivety begging for that sentence to mean no more than ice refills and routine checks. Suddenly something behind the blurred wall caught her attention, another figure. She squinted to confirm her initial theory, it wasn't another man. As she tried to look further she could only just see that it was a woman, since the figure was smaller in build and shorter in height than the men behind the desk. It couldn't be a client, since it was a woman, but before Rachel could ask Amber read her furrowed expression as easily as a letter.

"Oh" Amber began in a silky smooth voice "And that's Mrs Draper" she raised her eyebrows in an arch. "You didn't hear this from me, but stay as well away from her as possible, honestly she's an absolute –" before the vivacious woman could finish her last word the door to the office took a mighty swing open, revealing that the conversation inside had been much more heated than the insulating walls allowed Rachel to hear. Rachel could make out Mr Draper saying something, but she couldn't make sense of it, her attention had been tightly strung to a whole new distraction. As Mrs Draper emerged from the office every sensation of anxiety that Rachel Berry had felt in her first hour in New York multiplied to infinity. The woman's sleek figure was elegantly laced in expensive chiffons and nude fabrics, highlighting her perfectly porcelain perfection and tightly locked golden hair. Her lips were drawn in a firm clasped line of raspberry and her hazel eyes ferociously glared under two perfectly judgmental eyebrows. The dagger of her heels flooded the silent room with such threat that Rachel was sure all the woman behind her had fled, and even though the woman (who surely had to be around her age) didn't even glance at Rachel, she'd never felt more judged or exposed.

"Quinn!?" exclaimed a figure who was now hovering by the door, his suit looking more dispatched that Rachel would imagine it to normally be. But as Rachel's eyes jumped from her bosses back to the lady in white, they were unable to find her – only catching a glimpse of what had to be her in the closing elevator door. The handsome man with sleek brown hair glazed his eyes through the room with an intensity that ordered every secretary to get back to work, but before he shut his door his gaze landed on Rachel herself. "You" he said in a tone that was clearly an attempt to mask over the fiasco that had just played out in front of the whole office. "Come here" he added. Rachel glanced over to Amber who nodded in confirmation before whisking herself away. Rachel had no choice, and putting one kitten heel in front of the other made her way to stand in front of the booming gentleman that held not only her pay check, but also what felt like her life, in the palm of his hands.

"Yes, sir?" she answered in the most calm way she could, remembering what Amber had said about the golden rule only moments ago.

"Go get an order of flowers. The largest bouquet of Gardenias they have. Make it out to 'my dearest Quinn', that's double 'N' now, and sign it off from me. Got it?" he was hardly looking at her but Rachel stared at him with large eyes none the less, frantically nodding as she remembered the order.

"Gardenia's, yes sir" she repeated uneasily as she accepted the fact that she wouldn't be unpacking her desk anytime soon. However, that thought only lasted a moment – the rest of the day was spent wondering whether Mr Draper really loved his wife. Nearly every ounce of Rachel hoped that he did, and the small part that didn't was a part of herself that Rachel would soon come to know. A part of her that dared Rachel to sign the flowers off with her own name instead.


	2. Shattered Quinn

Author note: Potential trigger warning at the end

* * *

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to get to sleep for the tenth time that night. However, it was no use, and once again with a frustrated sigh she leaned up to tug the bedside lamp light on. She'd been trying to get to sleep ever since 9. Around nine was always the time a lady should go to bed, well at least that was what her mother had said, and Judy Fabray had died a long time ago. Perhaps it was the most valuable piece of advice the blonde had given her daughter, as all the others fell into the category of cooking tips and stitching techniques. At least this was simple – that after you cook your husband dinner and tuck your children into bed you go upstairs and write a list of things to do the next day and get some rest. But Quinn was tired of it, and she hated the fact that this would be the schedule for every night of her life until the day she finally died. Every day would be like today was. Every day would be living hell. She'd get up early enough to starch the sheets, even if her hands were sore with the washing powder. She'd leave enough time to cook the family breakfast, even though her eyes were hollowed with restless nights. She'd cook and clean and bake and smile with all her heart's desire until she'd finally be allowed a moment's piece alone in bed, and when that moment would come all she could do was dread the moment it ended. She couldn't appreciate the silence; it was too loud and full of screams of worry. She definitely couldn't appreciate the comfort of the sheets, since she knew she'd have to iron them before dawn if they had friends round. And whenever Quinn dared to pick up a book she envied the vicarious lives of the fictional characters with such intensity that she feared she'd rip the book from its spine. So instead Quinn decided to do nothing. Just like she always did and just like she always would. Another thing her mother was completely right about. The worrying thing was that this was exactly what Quinn had always dreamed of. She used to marvel at the pearls draped around a housewives neck, and how she adored the cook books that stacked the perfectly pristine kitchens. She was promised a life of lunches and cooking appliances, and that was exactly what she got. She was trapped and suffocating in her perfect dream.

Sliding off the Egyptian cotton sheets she trailed downstairs in the darkness and made her way over to her poison of choice, opening the red wine bottle with a hollow jump of the cork. Pouring the silky dark liquid into a wine glass she perched on a seat at the end of the empty dining table and attempted to revaluate her life in the darkness of her kitchen. Quinn hated the woman she'd become, and she was only 21. The plan was to marry at 23, then straight away she'd start having children and finally by 28 she'd have the perfect number and could take life more leisurely. The plan was always to marry at 23. She should've followed the plan. She would've been happy if she followed the plan.

But Quinn didn't follow the plans, and that's how she ended up marrying young and being desolate in this cold and empty house for eternity. She felt a frozen tear sting its way down her porcelain cheek as all the regrets of her life pounded into her lungs with one breath. Marrying Paul was the biggest curse of her life disguised in the sweetest blessing. Things were meant to be different. Paul was tall, dark, handsome – everything that Quinn could dream of. And perhaps more importantly, he seemed to meet all the criteria of her mother's rules. He came from a respectable family, he had a simple yet prospering job, and most importantly – he was wealthy enough to take care of her. It was brutal and calculating the way that he fell for her, or perhaps the way that she dragged him in. That day they met outside Columbia College was no surprise at all, and Quinn was definitely not the aspiring student she'd painted herself to be, or perhaps, Judy had painted her to be. Judy had been on the search for a suitor for her daughter ever since she'd hit the tender age of 16, though there was nothing tender about Quinn at all. She was beautiful, her hair always falling in elegant wisp of blond unlike any other girls, her skin somehow beamed with a soft shimmer of cream, and her eyes and smile shone as if they were picked from Tiffany's themselves. Judy just saw these as assets that could be used for a prize. As much as Judy Fabray wanted to pretend she was the perfect housewife, as Quinn was now, the truth was far from it. Judy had fallen from her grace when Quinn was only ten years old, following the harsh but justified departure of a certain Mr Fabray. Though Judy never spoke to Quinn about it, the blame was thickly glazed of her eyes. When he left he took every part of Judy with him, leaving a desperate and broken woman. And as each baking society and reading club removed her as a respectable member and they were forced to move out to the lower town region, Mrs Fabray (as she continued to call herself), was made only more determined to give Quinn the life she herself envied so much. She wanted to make her daughter the very thing that had killed her. The symbol of perfection.

When Judy had spotted Paul it only took a month of planning before she set her daughter off on the chase. Quinn knew exactly how to act and what to say, and by the time she got the seal of approval from Paul's parents the romance was so convincing that Quinn herself nearly believed she loved him. Of course, she liked to think that he really did love her, and that she'd played her part so well that he had managed to fall in love with her. But four years later she was sure that he loved her just as much as she did him, no more than a distant friend.

The pregnancy took everyone by shock, especially Quinn. Though her mother emphasized the importance of feminine wiles, she never expected the new contraception drug to fail. Of course there were rumours to say it didn't work, some doctors even claimed it caused infertility, but that was just crazy and definitely far from the adverts. She even did her best to take extra dosages, but none the less by the age of 19 there she was hunched over the toilet bowl every morning for hours on end. She wanted to get rid of it, it would've been easier that way. Sure it wasn't legal, but what was these days? Judy knew a woman who had a friend who did one at home, she even said it was as easy as baking a pie. Quinn wanted nothing more than to rip that beast out of her, but when the time came to tell Paul feelings certainly weren't mutual. The wedding was that spring, and Claire and Mathew were born on Christmas day after Quinn's 20th birthday. Everything changed after that. Quinn knew that all she had was her looks, and even though she looked her best on her wedding day she could feel Paul pull further and further away from her as every inch of her stomach expanded. She didn't eat for weeks the birth of the twins, but even as her curves came back she knew she'd lost something that she couldn't get back. She could even recall the very moment when she felt it, the little that they had completely vanish. It had to be six months ago now, or maybe even seven. But she definitely felt it, and it was followed by the passing of Mrs Judy Fabray herself. Neither event triggered a simmer of emotion from the cold blond.

She heard the front door creak open and realised her lace dressing gown was soaked with tears. Frantically Quinn grazed her hands across her face and tried to fan her tear stained cheeks, just in time for Paul to come in and turn the lights on. Instantly she could smell the reminence of whiskey and what she feared to be another woman's perfume. The event so the previous week replayed hauntingly in her mind. She could tell he wasn't expecting her, his eyes were wide with confusion as he levelled his briefcase and loosened his tie a little. When he saw the tears he stopped what he was doing and came a little closer, the light not being bright enough to let them see each other fully.

"Quinn?" He asked hesitantly, staring at her as if she was on fire.

"I called the office an hour ago, they said you were staying late" she said, finishing the sip of wine left in her glass. She always used to have a glass prepared for him, and it was also his favourite red. She looked up at him with a solemn glare. "Your dinners in the oven, I-"

"I'm not hungry" he stopped her in a comforting voice, his deep dark eyes still intently staring at her face. She hated this, those moments when he reminded her of what he used to be like. Back when it was easy to pretend to love him. She tried to look away, she didn't want to be fooled by his lies again. Even though those eyes of his shone bright with compassion, she knew that they were just masking all the things that kept her up at night. But she couldn't leave, he stood in the doorway as his expression pleaded for her to look up. Slowly and hesitantly she weaved up to catch his gaze, her lips pursed into a thin line. "Did you get my flowers?" he added in a low tone, causing her to swallow hard.

"They're in the hall, did that new girl write the note? She has nice writing, but you really should tell her not to put more than two kisses, really ruins the illusion" Quinn spat out bitterly, forgetting every manner that her mother taught her, and every line of script she'd learnt as the dutiful housewife. He sighed and hung his head as her eyes burned with power. She told him she'd forgiven him, she'd told herself she'd forgiven him. But it wasn't true, none of it was. Her wedding ring felt heavy on her finger.

"Quinn I'm sorry, I wanted to explain, but it was hard in the office and I had a meeting with Carl, you have to understand-" He cupped both sides of her face in his hands forcing her in the most gentle manner to look up, it sickened her to think of where those hands had been. It wasn't meant to hurt her, she wasn't meant to care. This wasn't for love, none of it was. Pulling away from him she walked straight to the sink where she frantically began washing the glass, her hands almost shaking with fury – because she did care, she cared about this more than she'd ever cared about in her whole entire life.

"Explain what, Paul. _Please _explain it to me, because clearly I'm completely incapable of understanding the situation, right?" She hissed as the running water shot onto the glass making the soap foam vigorously. "What are you going to tell me, huh? That this time you were _actually _at work and not screwing that secratory of yours? Why would I _ever _not believe you again. Or maybe are you going to tell me that you're actually more sorry that you seemed, oh how guilt becomes you _dear_." she spat out the words as rage boiled through her blood, she could feel her chest begin to tighten as the words kept fighting out and the tears began to sting again her eyes. Today had been the only proper chance she'd gotten to talk to him about it, and he'd acted as nonchalant as ever."Or maybe you'll tell me that I'm just not good enough anymore, is that right? That you're _done_ with me. That I was just a _mistake_. Because who would want a wife that couldn't give you anymore children?" they told her right after the birth of the twins. The Doctor put it as best as he could, but it didn't matter, it was still the end of her life in Quinn's eyes. Children was all that she could give him now that he didn't find her attractive anymore. He told her it wasn't the mechanics, but the pills she'd taken. Turns out the contraceptive back then was a death wish, he mentioned something about not enough trials. He said that if she'd ever get pregnant again she would miscarry for sure – not that Paul was interested enough to try.

"_Quinn" _he insisted coming closer to her, his tone urginig her to stop her emotional rampage, but nothing could stop her now.

"I know that's what you're thinking – _all _your friends think the same" She continued without even drawing a breath "Do you know what John's wife told me? She told me it was okay, and that even though two isn't enough everything happens for a reason. Did it happen so you wouldn't feel bad about fucking everything that moves in the office?" The tears seemed to come splashing down with such strength that they seemed to compete with the power of the tap itself "Wait no – I've got it – you wanted to tell me that oops you're fucking that new gorgeous brunette too" something snapped inside of Quinn and as her body convulsed with complete anger she realised it wasn't something that snapped inside of her at all, it was the glass in her hands. The crushed shards of clear glass dug into her skin as streams of crimson mixed into the soap and water in the sink, a sensation of burning and pain flooding the whole of Quinn as she sunk to the floor unable to look at the mess and scratches of her shredded fingers, unable to feel Paul's strong hands firmly gripping her shoulders and shaking her back into consciousness, unable to hear his voice full of worry and fear try to keep her in consciousness. She couldn't feel anything. She was completely numb. And for the first time in her miserable life, she was finally at rest.


	3. Out of the closet

"Coffee?" Amber asked with a smile as she hovered by Rachel's desk. Instinctively the brunette's eyes darted up at the clock that hung on the wall and she sighed as it only read 11am. That number meant two things - firstly, she sitll had another seven hours of work, and secondly - it had been four hours since her first cup which meant she had to wait just one more. Rachel loved the stuff, but she just tried to stay away for at least five hour breaks. It made her all jumpy these days, and she really wanted to do well during her first week. She hadn't gotten a chance to visit the taylors that Amber had recommended, but none the less she thought her outfit today was much better than that of yesterdays. Somehow the short plaid cardigan and the skirt that was just that bit tighter made Rachel's life easier. More doors were held open for her and she received more smiles from the men. But aside from coffee and outfits Rachel's mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only. Mrs Draper. After she sent the flowers all she could worry about was whether the mysterious blond was okay, and she hated the fact that she had no way of finding that out - and then it hit her. Amber knew everything, surely she had to know something about the ambiguous lady?

"Sure" Rachel finally answered with a nod, tucking away her sheets that sprawled the desk. As they made their way to the coffee section and got two white's Rachel was forced into talking about how she was enjoying her first few days and then having to listen to Amber's more than vicarious sex life. She could feel herself blush and cringe with some of her comments, but none the less she nodded and 'mm'd' and kept all her opinions to herself, until finally she found the perfect moment at the cafe to ask the question that had been playing on her lips all this time. "Can I ask you something?" she interjected hastily. Amber nodded before making eye contact with another worker who wandered past, however returning her gaze to Rachel and taking a slow slurp of her drink.

"Sure, Rachel. What's on your mind?" she asked in that milky sweet tone that Rachel presumed got Amber far in life, as well as her hips.

"It's about Mr Draper" Rachel finally pushed out. She couldn't bring herself to talk straight about the woman, and hoped that this start to the conversation would make it all seem more natural. "I was wondering what's he like, I mean we haven't actually properly met - and he's my boss - so I just thought it would be useful, work wise, to know a bit more about him" Rachel concluded as her throat grew dry. Amber raised one eyebrow but rolled her shoulders in a lack of judgment before taking in a deep breath to begin her story.

"Well, he's about 24 I think. Married, as you know. Two kids, but they're just babies." she nodded as she recited the information "But personality wise, I couldn't tell you much Rachel. Honestly, I just don't know. I don't think any of us do - you see we thought he was one of the good ones...you know the type, boring and family orientated, but then-" she stopped and shook her head, hesitation in her expression. Rachel's eyes were wide in wonder and begging her continue "look, Rachel, before I tell you this you have to understand that things are different in this world. And it's only cheating if you get caught." she shrugged again, her chest raising and falling with the motion, exaggerating her assets. "He got caught."

"He cheated on her?" Rachel screeched in a hushed voice, her brown eyes booming with shock which caused Amber to frown in judgement.

"I told you Rachel things are different, they all cheat, even the best of them."

"I know that, I do" Rachel defended herself, feeling her naivety protest before drawing in a silent breath "I just don't understand why anyone would want to cheat on...well...her" she finished quietly, holding onto her cup of coffee firmly. Amber gave a large scoff of protest, almost sending her coffee flying.

"You don't know the first thing about her, and let me tell you, you wouldn't blame him if you did" Amber hissed. "She's acting all high and mighty as if she's the first woman in history to have her husband cheat on her, and whoopty-do, it's such a big surprise for her because who could ever cheat on little miss perfect." her elaborate explanation caught Rachel so off guard that she couldn't help but sit there absolutely silently. She wanted to protest and say that wasn't true, but it was - she just didn't know anything about the woman, no matter how much she wanted to. But she felt as if she did, and all from a look. She felt as if there was more to her than this ice queen, and she felt as if she was the fire that could bring it out. Rachel miserably looked down at the table and felt a feeling of defeat wash over her, maybe Amber was right. Maybe she'd just created this all in her head. Before she could realize it, Amber had put a worrying hand on top of Rachel's cold palm, causing her to look up and meet the taller woman's concerned gaze "Hey I didn't say anything to upset you, did I?"

"No." She responded meekly, shaking her head slightly before pulling away from Amber's grip and finishing her coffee. "I better get back to work" she added before slipping from the seat and returning to her desk, all the way there hoping she hadn't put off her only friend at work.

By the typewriter Rachel's eyes flashed across a pad of paper that had her scribbled writing on it, it was a reminder to put Mr Draper's coffee on his desk. Quickly she went back and ordered a single espresso (luckily avoiding Amber) and padded her way back into his office. She knocked on the oak door a couple of times but finally decided to enter as she heard no reply, she was pleasantly surprised to find it was empty. It was just like she'd imagined his office to be, or anyone's of his standing. It was big, much bigger than her rooms at home. It was also furnished in the style of those glossy magazines - with a big desk on one side with leather arm chairs, and then a seating area closest to the door. The huge windows on one side of the wall gave the view of the whole of the city, and Rachel was almost too distracted to put the cup of his desk. None the less she placed the deep brown drink on his desk and turned to leave the room - but then something caught her eye. Before she could escape the image in the photo frame on the desk had captured every ounce of Rachel's attention, and slowly yet surely she came closer to have a better look. Picking up the gold frame she peaked at the photo in it, recognizing the woman in it instantly. It was her, it had to be - even though it looked completely different. She was more beautiful than Rachel remembered. There was something wrong about the picture though, even though she looked incredibly young in it there was still something off. Maybe it was the way that Mr Draper was holding her, or perhaps it was just the woman's expression, but either way Rachel didn't think the photo felt right. She realized that there was also a stain on the glass of the frame, causing it to be all blurred - hardly doing it justice. Without a moment of consideration Rachel's finger laced at the back of the frame and slid the photo out, holding it in her hands. The mystery of why Mrs Draper was so sad continuing to fog her mind. Just as she was about to put the frame back together she heard the familiar booming voice of her boss approach, panic flooding her mind. She knew she didn't have time to fix the frame and get out before he came, and even though she knew she was technically allowed in his office, guilt and panic still flooded her aura. Quickly Rachel grabbed the frame and photo as well as the coffee and fled to the line of cupboards that stuck against the the back wall, sliding the wooden door just open enough in order to get inside. She could hardly breathe inside the tightly compact closet (which she finally found out to be full of suits), but she tried her best to hold her breath in and be as silent as possible. She pressed her eyes shut in fear as she could hear him come into the room, at first thinking there was someone with him but then acknowledging that he was on the phone. Rachel could feel her heart pound against her chest in the tension.

"I know Clarke, I just didn't think happy people needed to see psychiatrists" He said, his footsteps hovering by the seating area. Rachel could see his shadow from the creak of light that poured in from the small opening of the door. She winced anxiously. "How do I know she's happy? Don't be stupid. We have the kids, and the house, and it's not as if I don't buy her enough things. It's gotta be her mother passing, right?" his voice didn't seem as concerned as Rachel would expect it to be considering his conversation. She tried to make sense of it, but failed to. Her heart rate increased as she could feel him approach the closet but hen turn towards what she thought was the desk.

"I'm telling you, Clarke" he continued "I'd never seen anything like it. She went _crazy_. She's been in the hospital all night and then she's seeing doctors all of today, I don't know what'll happen if this gets out." the chair squeaked and Rachel presumed he was behind the desk, and so she let herself take in a quick breath momentarily - but as she did her hands seemed to fail her and before her very eyes the coffee cup came crashing down onto the closet floor with a smash. Rachel braced herself for the beginning of the end. "Clarke I'm going to have to call you back" Mr Draper concluded. Before Rachel could think of a plan she could hear the footsteps making their way closer and closer to her raging heart, and then finally the closet door was flung open. She didn't know what she'd expected him to do, but it was definitely not what he did next. She thought he'd shout or scream or maybe even fire her on the spot - but when Mr Draper grabbed Rachel's body and pressed it to his, pulling her out of the closet and crushing his lips on hers, it was no surprise that the frame fell out of her hand as well. Her heel shattering the glass of the frame into a hundred broken fragments.


	4. Thank you for the flowers

Quinn stared at the blank wall with a deep sense of emptiness as she lay in the hospital bed. She felt oddly restless, and even though she blamed it on a lack of sleep she wasn't tired – not physically at least. She didn't understand the emotions that washed over her at all. Had they been there all the time? Or perhaps they were something new and foreign. Whatever they were, Quinn wanted them to leave. Just like she wanted to leave and get back to the house. She mulled over what lies Paul had made to the fellow's at work, she worried about the children and whether Grace the babysitter was doing a good job, and somehow amidst all of the to-do lists and fears she forgot to worry about herself. The door shifted open and the young blond pulled herself up on the bed as best as she could considering her hands were mittens of bandage.

"You're not Dr Brown..." Quinn noted suspiciously, her eyebrows taking in the man she didn't recognize by the door frame. He was younger than her doctor, with broad shoulders and a tall built. There was something friendly about his smile and something innocent in his eyes, it hit Quinn that he just seemed too young to be a doctor.

"My names Dr Stevens, but please, you can call me James" his accent indicated he was definitely not from around Manhattan, though Quinn couldn't put her finger on it. Flipping through some paperwork in his hands he looked over at her with an edge of compassion, causing Quinn to feel more self conscious than ever before.

"Nice to meet you Dr Stevens" she muttered. "Now I was wondering, when can I be discharged?" Quinn added with greater urgency.

"Discharged?" The doctor repeated.

"Well yes. I'm perfectly fine, you see. I'll have to leave the washing to the maids for a couple of days and I'll have to get a town car instead of drive but I just don't see any other problem here..." she explain rationally, attempting to sit upright to look more healthy. Quinn didn't feel remotely healthy, she felt trampled and broken. But those were two emotions that she just didn't have the time for.

"Mrs Draper, your accident is of great concern to me-"

"Yes exactly, it was an accident. So what with the new health scheme now I'll be in every time I stub a toe or break a nail?" She tried to laugh but her throat was too dry, the doctor remained silently concerned. "Please Dr Stevens, Dr Brown's released me in worse states"

"So this has happened before?"

"What do you mean _this?_" Quinn demanded with frustration, her heart rate increasing in agitation as she struggled to get herself off the bed. She hated feeling so helpless. To her disappointment the doctor was by her side and stopping her in a manner of respect.

"Mrs Draper, have you hurt yourself before-" but before he could say another word Quinn pushed the large man off her and turned to her bag of belongings that lay seated in one corner of the room, pretending she was much more capable at opening it than she actually was.

"I'm not saying another word to you, do you understand? I'm only going to talk to Dr Brown – and if my husband put you up to this I'll be damned if this is the last you hear about it. I'm completely _fine_" she argued intently, and to her luck the doctor seemed to leave the room – though she was sure that wasn't the last _she_'_d _hear about it. She thought bitterly about how typical this was of Paul, to make her seem crazy. Because it would be irrational to even consider the fact he was the screwed up one. Of course it would ruin his business if he had a crazy wife, which would mean a divorce and then she'd be stuck with two children and nowhere to go. And who would ever want a divorced old maid. In frustration she tugged and ripped the bandaids off her hands, trying her hardest not to gasp of the wounds that dug into her once perfect flesh. Closing her eyes and looking away she rummaged through the bag that Grace had packed her, releaved to find an appropriate outfit for her to wear. In a matter of moments Quinn had managed to transform herself from an inpatient to a wife of an executive business man. The pale green dress and cream cardigan seemed to fit distinctively well with the jewellery she had available to her, and since she didn't exactly have any curlers with her she tied her hair into an up-do chignon in defeat. Quinn wouldn't let her husband win, she just couldn't give him the satisfaction of it. Picking up the large handbag and leaving the hospital gown behind, Quinn made her way down the hospital halls with dignity, a look in her eyes that told every nurse in her way that she had full right to be leaving the premises. As she hailed down a cab she noted that it would probably best for her to buy some gloves.

By the time that Quinn Draper had arrived outside the tall office building it looked as if she'd stepped out of a luncheon. No one could ever have guessed that she'd spent the last 24 hours lying in a hospital bed. She thought that the silk beige gloves were a nice touch, since they seemed to be in this season. Then again she probably just read that in readers digest, which was full of lies. She would know, since her husband wrote most of it. As she left the cab the doorman greeted her with the same intrinsically polite nod of his hat that hadn't changed since her visit yesterday, and wouldn't change if Quinn had anything to do about it. She smiled eloquently as a gentleman caught the elevator door for her, and smoothly stepped inside to stand in front of the three men she knew where utterly adoring her.

"Morning, Quinn" One said with a bashful smirk, the blonde glanced behind her to recognize one of Paul's colleagues and in reply gave a humble smile.

"Looking beautiful as always" the other added, this time Quinn just didn't have the fancy to turn around. As the elevator rang its arrival onto the 11th floor she gave out a soft sigh and took a step out. Muttering an indignant 'thank you' to the men as she made her way through the rows of secretary's fiercely typing away. She loved walking to his office this way, it seemed so much more amusing. Quinn adored the way that their confident little heads ducked and stayed shamefully low as she walked past of them – the room once fully of chatty gossip going silent as a forest in her presence. She loved the power that she held over them, it was the sweetest revenge for all their sins against her. Quinn knew that every other woman had probably destroyed one of her friends marriage, and probably half of those had attempted to destroy her own. None of them would ever be her though. None of them would ever become the Mrs.

Just as Quinn was about to knock on her husband's door something caught her eye in the corridor, or more accurately, someone. She remembered the woman immediately; it was the same new girl that she'd seen the day before when she'd left Paul's office. It was the person who'd sent the Gardenia's, and put an extra 'x', and added the green ribbon that matched her eyes so perfectly.

"You" Quinn said before she could fully register the word passing through her lips. The short brunette stopped in her way as her eyes glared widely at the other woman. For a second Quinn swore she could see her tremble.

"Y-yes" She stuttered as she came forward. Quinn knew there was something different about her. She seemed to stick out less today, and Quinn didn't particularly think that was a good thing. She didn't want the office to get to her, since there was something different about her. It was refreshing to have someone who hadn't slept with everyone in the office. The brunette was pure and new, and though a little humble and definitely not from uptown, if Quinn was being honest to herself – neither was she.

"I don't think we met" Quinn finally replied clearing her voice a little "I'm Mrs-" she started but then held back "I'm Quinn"

"Nice to meet you" Rachel warily returned, staring down at the hand that the blonde had stuck out. She looked up at her through her dark lashes before extending her own and shaking it the way that her mother had taught her. "Rachel, I mean I'm Rachel" the brunette added with as much composure as she could manage. Unfortunately in that moment Quinn's attention was grabbed by the sound of laughter coming from her husband's office, her eyes flashed back towards Rachel's with an apologetic look before turning and making her way towards the door. Just as she was about to pull it open she wavered and looked back once more.

"Thank you for the flowers" she finished softly before sliding herself through the door and leaving Rachel in a stance of guilt.

In the office Paul wasn't alone. Two other colleagues joined the couple on the sofa. She recognized one of them to be Mitch, a fairly young man with greasy blond hair and a plump red face. Though Quinn hadn't known Mitch for a long time she could tell that he desired Paul's job more than anything, and he seemed to have the threatening determination to get it. The other one she knew better than any other individual in the room, even her husband. Salvatore had been an old friend of hers now, as she'd met him around the same time as she met Paul. He was much older than she was and had one of those kind faces that make you feel reassured. His skin had a touch of olive which came straight from the Italian side of his family, and his heavy accent and broad bones came right from his American. Salvatore had always had a soft spot for Quinn, though he never really liked to admit it.

"Gentleman" Quinn broke the laughter as she acknowledged each one of them, making them put their scotch glasses on the nearest surface. Her smile to Mitch was polite, her one to Salvatore earnest, and the one to her husband thick in a menacing betrayal. Paul was the first to approach her, sliding a hand around her waist and pressing his lips to her cheek in a kiss. She could smell the thick stench of alcohol on his lips and her body became ridged at his touch.

"Honey, I didn't think you'd be out till tomorrow" he muttered in her ear. If Quinn hadn't been so accustomed to smiling in jeopardising positions, perhaps the urge to slap him would've taken over completely. None the less her pearly white teeth gleamed with pure ecstasy as she raised her eyebrows at her husband whilst excusing herself from his grip.

"Why wouldn't I be? It was just a broken glass Paul, no need to keep me locked up" she chuckled softly, wavering her glare to the two other men that did the same. She could read the concern in Salvatore's expression, but he too knew better than to talk honestly in front of either Mitch or Paul. "Be a dear and pour me a glass, would you Mitch?" She asked as she perched herself on an empty armchair, placing her bag by her heels and relishing in the fact her injured hands were free from the weight. Mitch quickly did as he would told and handed over the fresh new glass with two ices to the blond, all whilst Paul looked deeply on edge. A silence broke over the scene.

"Paul was just telling us about the new lucky strikes campaign, readers digests are now complaining that smoking is bad for you, it's crazy talk" Salvatore exclaimed with a force smile and Quinn had the urge to a pull out a much needed cigarette. Mitch just shook his head in outrage but Paul still seemed frozen in his gaze. Finally Quinn's brutal eyes found their way to her husband's.

"And what do you think, Paul?" she asked as if nothing in the world was wrong, placing her glass on the table with a ring. "Do you think their bad for you?"

"No" he answered hesitantly, his eyes finding their way to his shoes in a stance of guilt.

"Well maybe I'll ask Dr Stevens next time I see him, he's such a kind man isn't he?" Quinn replied with the same threatening smile. Another uncomfortable silence smothered the room.

"Gentleman, if you'd be so kind as to excuse us I think Quinn and I have some thing we need to speak about" Paul concluded. Mitch's expression lit up as if he'd won the lottery, collecting his stuff and fleeing the room with such haste that Quinn feared he'd trip over. Salvatore was less relieved to be evacuating, glancing over to Quinn with an edge of question in his stare. She just nodded as if to say she'd be alright. And she would, since she had no other choice. Reluctantly he stood up and passed through Paul, giving him a sterner look than someone in a ranking below him should, but it shouted loud and clear to treat Quinn with respect. Finally the two of them were left in the room alone, and the rage that had previously filled Quinn seemed to leak out along with the others. Paul's face seemed to crumble with anguish as he turned away from his wife. The power and confidence that had inflicted him in the presence of his colleagues snatched away just as fast.

"Look at me." Quinn pleaded, unsure of the tone that played up in her voice. "We can't keep doing this Paul, it's not right. You're not happy, _I'm _not happy" with a shaking hand the blonde picked up the glass and had another sip. She didn't know why she was saying all of this. It was going against everything that her mother had told her. Being happy wasn't an option, it was a rule. She knew what Paul would see as the solution, the image of her without her wedding ring, without _anything_, ran around in circles in her mind. But when Paul turned around his expression didn't even come close to what she expected. There was no anger or rage in his eyes, like there were in Quinn's. There was no hate in his expression, like Quinn had seen in her own so many times. There was just a man who was broken, a man she didn't recognize. A man that looked more sorrowful than any other man she'd ever seen. He came towards her, but not in the swift walk that usually filled his steps, but with an almost hovel. He dragged himself onto his knees by her legs and took her hands in his, his deep brown eyes begging into hers. She didn't know what to do, she was so caught off guard that she simply had no choice than to shut her eyes for a moment just to take everything in. What was he doing? And more importantly, why?

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm so damn sorry" he pleaded. But something about the picture just didn't work. He was a man, and she was a woman. That meant she was always wrong, that's how it worked, that's how it had to work. So why were they both breaking all the rules. "We can fix this, _I'll_ fix this. I just want you to be happy, Quinn. I'll give you anything, you want a new car, baby? A new necklace? Hey – we can even move house, I'll do it all for you" his grip tightened as he pulled himself up and with him the limp body of Quinn. He held her in his arms in plead for love, crushing her hair in his hands as he held her like he used to. "I love you Quinn, you name it and its yours" she drew in a sharp breath at his words as she still resisted his touch. She wanted to trust him, to believe him, to fall back into a pretence of love with him. How simple would it be, how jealous would all the wives be of her. There was no other life for her, there was no Mrs Draper without Paul. Bitterly she stopped resisting with such force and let him hold her for that short moment. Maybe it was because she was tired from the night and the hospital, or maybe it was because she missed being held.

"Okay" she finally whispered, feeling more empty than ever before. "We'll try, Paul." She said in surrender.

As he embraced her further and whispered words of love and promises of a better life and made his way to the nape of her neck, moving his lips at a greater rate of passion, Quinn only remained there by her body, her mind somewhere far away. Somewhere beyond the opaque wall of office and by the desk at the right turn. A desk where a girl sat with bright brown eyes, a girl that had shown her more kindness than her husband had in all their years. A girl that would, to both their ignorance, bring what was left of Quinn back to life. Just hopefully before it was too late.


	5. Cold Red Lips

Rachel Berry slipped the cover over her typewriter with an exhausted breath. Even though this was only her second day, she couldn't help but feel completely drained. Working one day in New York felt like working at least a month in any other city. It was the pace of it all, the day didn't give you a single chance to catch your breath – even coffee breaks were a rush. So when the clock finally struck six (and most of the other girls had managed to escape early), Rachel was more than glad to turn the lights off and head home in her old red coat. Even though it was freezing outside, Rachel decided to walk most of the way home, since it would give her time to think – something she really needed to do. The events of the last two days were such a foreign concept to her that she felt as if they were happening to someone else, and for the most of it, she wished that they were. Back in Brooklyn she would've died for the opportunity of such a vicarious life, where the office men stare at you as if you were a plate of pancakes and the shops outside suddenly spark more interest than they have ever before. It wasn't as if Rachel could afford the clothes yet, since her pay check was still humble, but she had more an affinity for them, more of a reason to want to wear them. She thought she did a good job today though, her silk blouse seemed to fit in more with everyone's style, and she even tied a matching little scarf around her neck in the same way as all those ladies did in the adverts. But as the cold New York air smashed against her frozen face, Rachel knew that she shouldn't be thinking about clothes or fashion, but what had happened that very morning.

She didn't understand Paul Draper, and frankly, she hoped that she never would. He was a cruel man, and at the same time a charming one. Whatever his characteristics were, Rachel just couldn't logically see how he'd want to be with anyone except for his wife. That was just it, Amber made it clear as ice that none of these men actually wanted to be _with _her, they just wanted to have her. Rachel was never the religious kind, but she said a small prayer for the fact that nothing more than a kiss had happened. She didn't want to think about what could've happened if they weren't interrupted by that Salvatore man. Rachel was more confused by not only why Paul would find her attractive, but also by whether that counted as her first kiss. She'd always imagined it would be with someone that she loved, and maybe more embarrassingly, someone that loved her. Paul Draper certainly didn't, and feelings were incredibly mutual. Maybe the even _more _confusing thing was that it just didn't feel right – besides the guilt, and the lack of control – Rachel just didn't seem to feel anything when the man's lips met her. Surely she was meant to feel something? Even if the situation was so obscure. But Rachel didn't feel a spark, nor a pinch of desire, and instead was just disgusted physically and morally by the whole event. Paul Draper had planted a sloppy wet kiss on her face and everything about the situation made her shudder. The solution was to avoid him at all costs, except business wise. A decision that she decided to apply to all the men in the office, no matter what Amber had told her.

The wind was getting stronger and Rachel slowly but surely began to lose feeling in her toes and the tips of her fingers. She remembered the gloves that elegantly laced the hands of Mrs Draper and wondered if she'd ever be able to afford a pair like that. Rachel instantly stopped herself mid in thought. If she was going to survive the office and finally become something more than a secretary she wouldn't just have to cut out the office men from her life, but also Quinn. However, the fates were certainly against her as a black town cab pulled along to her walking pace. As the window drew down Rachel caught sight of those familiar green eyes.

"Rachel?" Quinn's voice travelled through the light traffic of the New York street and the petite brunette in the red coat had no choice but to come forward. Quinn's face softened through the haze as she approached, those very gloves motioning in a manner that beckoned her to come into the car. Hesitantly Rachel opened the back seat, giving a small wary smile to the driver, become coming inside. She was met with the warmth of the heated vehicle and the plush leather seats that decorated the interior; she couldn't help but marvel a little.

"Are you sure? I don't live far away and I don't mind walking Mrs Draper" Rachel persisted, even though every inch of her frozen body pleaded for her to stay. Luckily the blond shook her head in protest.

"It's no problem at all, and please call me Quinn" the other lady reminded her softly. "And besides, Amber told me you're from Brooklyn" Quinn added with a raise of those perfectly arched eyebrows. Rachel blushed, feeling a little embarrassed from lying, and more so a little curious as to why Amber had been speaking to the woman she so openly detested.

"Thank you" Rachel finally concluded, her body relaxing into the soft material as Quinn motioned to the driver to continue driving, Rachel quickly told him her address before returning to the comfort of the car seat.

"Cigarette?" Quinn's voice broke the silence, offering Rachel the little silver box in her hand. When Rachel declined Quinn placed her own in her mouth and lit it with a fierce spark from her lighter. Taking a deep draw back on the stick, she extended her neck and her deep lashes fluttered shut as she exhaled the smoke deeply, her eyes then returning to Rachel. "Don't say you're one of those health fanatics that think this is going to kill me, right?"

"No" Rachel quickly replied, a little too eagerly. The truth was that everything about Quinn put her on edge. She felt like she was walking on eggshells when she was around the blonde, and worst of all, she almost enjoyed it. She'd never felt more alive in the presence of another person. By just one look at her through those hazel eyes, Quinn managed to draw Rachel so vigorously into the moment at hand that all the past moments of her life could hardly compare. One second with her was like a lifetime of living. "How are you feeling?" Rachel added quietly, then realised that she ought to explain her question. "Mr Draper mentioned you got hurt?" her eyebrows furrowed a little as she plucked up the courage to take a proper look at the blond through the dim light and smoke of the car. Rachel's throat grew dry with a sudden fleet of panic.

"Yes" the blonde replied, tapping the cigarette elegantly onto a built in ash tray. "I'm fine now, it was rather stupid actually. I guess I just haven't been myself these last few days" Rachel couldn't read the tone in Quinn's voice, it was like nothing she'd heard before. It was too smooth to be a lie, but still there was something just that bit rehearsed about it. Through the mix of the other woman's perfume and smoke, Rachel began to feel a little light headed and almost drowsy. She tried her best to remain as conscious in the moment as possible, unwilling to lose a second of it, not knowing when the next time she'd see Quinn again. It was peculiar, but something about her aura made Rachel want to never leave her. It was as if she was a magnet, drawing you closer and closer and not allowing you to leave. Not that you'd want to at all. Leaving that car was the last thing Rachel wanted to do.

"I'm glad you're okay, I-" Rachel was cut off by the blond blunting her cigarette and turning her body to face her. She noticed her lipstick had smudged a little and wondered if her and Paul had made up. She wasn't sure if she felt happy for them, or furious. Quinn deserved more.

"There's something different about you today" Quinn interjected, catching Rachel off guard with the new tone in her voice, since there was something a lot more natural about it. As Quinn's eyes took in every inch of Rachel, the brunette felt more exposed as ever. It was as if she was stark naked. The tension in the air grew as Quinn continued to look over Rachel. "Your hair..did you change your hair?" She said in a soft tone that came out almost a whisper, her eyes never meeting Rachel's but instead still looking at different parts of her. Suddenly Quinn's hand came up and met Rachel's face, even through the glove Rachel felt shivers roll down her spine in a shudder of pleasure. The blond tucked a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear and then shook her head. "No that's not it" she added, and Rachel swore she could see the smallest of smirks play up on her lips. Then again, she couldn't be sure of anything in that moment. She was locked in the spell of the woman who was coming closer and closer by the second. "Maybe it's the scarf" Quinn added once more, her fingers this time tapping along the line of Rachel's exposed collar bone before they laced their way onto the silk scarf, Rachel tensed her body into a rigid statue as the shocks of pleasurable anxiety threatened to entrance her once more. Quinn pulled her hand back a little and then shook her head once more "Nope. Not the scarf" her voice had definitely become just a whisper. Then suddenly she removed the glove of her right hand, but not even curiosity could get Rachel to look at it – her eyes were firmly planted on Quinn's every move, her heart crashing against her chest with such ferociousness that she swore she'd die that very moment. Rachel was incapable of words, incapable of movement, she was unbearably and intrinsically locked in the best moment of her life so far. Quinn's eyes immediately brightened up as she was now only inches away from Rachel's face. The brunette tried to steady her breathing but there was no use, she was openly and vulnerability controlled by Quinn's every move. "I know, I know what it is" Quinn muttered, raising those same slender fingers once more, this time making them only just touch Rachel's cold red lips. "Lipstick" she concluded, retracting back to her initial position with such speed that Rachel had to blink a couple of times just to make sure it had all happened.

Quinn sat there in such an air of nonchalance it was as if the last few minutes never happened, and if it wasn't for Rachel still able to feel Quinn's touch on her lips and her perfume and smoke in her hair, maybe she'd doubt herself too. But Rachel was still locked in that moment, still unable to do anything, still completely confused about what just happened and the fact that by just a simple touch of Quinn's fingers she felt everything and more that she'd ever wanted from a first kiss. The only thing that managed to break her trance was the sound of the driver's voice indicating that they'd arrive. Rachel waited for Quinn to say something but instead the blond was staring out the other window indifferently, another cigarette miraculously gripped in her hand. It came to the point where Rachel had no choice but to get out of the car, and with a sense of bitter betrayal she did exactly that.

Rachel's mind swarmed with questions as she fumbled her way up the apartment building, her mind unable to stop thinking about what had happened and more precisely, why. Rachel had no grasp on the feelings that engulfed her, and no control on how to deal with them. She was so furiously trapped by all of her thoughts that she nearly walked straight past the huge bouquet planted right in the middle of her small living room, if it weren't for her roommate squeaks and squeals of delight.

"Rach, c'mon tell me! Who are they from? Who is he? Jeesh its just the second day, I bet you'll be married by the end of the rent. You gotta tell me, what's he like?" Amanda flailed continuously in her dressing gown, but Rachel's hollow brown eyes were sudden at the lilies that had to have cost more than her own salary for the next three months. After Amanda continuously begged her to open the card, Rachel gave in and tore the envelope open. Even though she already knew precisely who they were from.

There was no name. There was no message. There were only three letters in a row.

"xxx"


	6. Can't Pretend

Authors Note: I'm really glad people are enjoying it so far, and just to say I'm hoping to build the chapters up in size soon. I've planned a few troubles and plot twists to come but thought i'd let 1950's Faberry enjoy their moment of love for a short while, at least to get the ball rolling a little. We'll be seeing a new side to Quinn and a more confident Rachel in the chapters to come - as well as seeing the more ruthless and manipulative side of Paul, especially when it comes to the matter of Quinn and Rachel. Hope you all enjoy this one, oh and happy Faberry Week on tumblr!

* * *

When the kettle finally boiled that Monday morning, there was something different about Quinn. That very night she'd slept like a baby, which was a sharp contrast to the endless trials of insomnia that had haunted her the last few months. Not only that, but she also managed to get up without the constant ringing of her alarm clock. By the time it was only 8am breakfast was already on the table (along with Paul's coffee and newspaper, of course), and the gurgling babies bounced in their high chairs with delight. Of course this scene of domestic idealism took Paul by great surprise, but instead of asking what was different about his wife he happily endured his waffles with a slight air of optimism, not knowing that Quinn's happiness was fully down to his own secretary.

"I'm taking the children down to your mothers for a while" Quinn stated calmly as she finished feeding Claire the last mouthful of baby food. The little girl had her own green eyes, probably the only aspect that truthfully resembled Quinn. Mathew was almost an exact replica of Paul, which perhaps was why Quinn never fully blossomed when it came to the maternal extinct. She did love her kids, but not in the way that she imagined kids should be loved.

"To the Hamptons? Why? It'll be almost Christmas time, dear" Paul answered after a deep slurp of the dark coffee. No matter how much Quinn fretted over her emotions towards the children, she was still content with the fact she clearly loved them more than Paul did – though perhaps that was a curse in itself.

"Exactly, it'll be much nicer over there, don't you think? You always spoke fondly of your Christmas' back home" Quinn indicated with that familiar arch of her eyebrows. "Besides, your mother really does miss them, Paul." The last statement wasn't exactly true, since Mrs Draper senior didn't really have a heart big enough to miss anything. However, she did suffer from that over possessive behaviour that some mothers get towards their sons, something that had mildly passed down towards the children.

"I don't suppose why not" He finally concluded, finishing his meal with an audible clang of his cutlery. As Paul adjusted his suit and retrieved his briefcase, Quinn placed each child on her hip before leaving a light kiss on her husband's cheek. The fact of the matter was, Quinn really did need the children away. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on in her own household, but she knew for sure that it was best if they were in a more stable environment. In fact, she counted on Paul agreeing and had already packed both children's bags and arranged for the nanny to go with them. They were set to leave this afternoon, and with them Quinn felt a part of herself was set to leave as well. After both children had been settled in their cribs, the blond rushed over to the house phone with a gallant anticipation, ringing the number with a slight shake of nervousness in her hand.

* * *

Quinn knew that took exactly 28 minutes for Paul to get to work on a good day – and if you counted getting to his actual office, she usually added another five or ten minutes. Counting on her fingers she was certain that left her at least fifteen minutes before he arrived, and with full knowledge of that she rung his office, knowing he'd obviously not answer. She then redialled the same number, aware of the office rule. People don't ring again after no reply unless it's urgent, and if that happens that gives the private secretary full allowance of taking the call through their own phone. Quinn crawled onto the silk sheets and pressed her back against the head of the bed as her breath hitched in anticipation.

"Paul Draper's office, how may I help you?" Quinn's face lit up a little as she heard Rachel's voice.

"Rachel?" the blond asked over the line just to act a little more nonchalant about it all. There was a silence on the other end of the phone. "Rachel, it's Quinn" she added, suddenly not sure if it was a good idea to ring the brunette.

"I know" the girl replied meekly before taking in a deep breath that could be heard perfectly even over the phone. "I needed- I wanted to speak to you, Quinn."

"That's why I called"

"Not over the phone - if that's okay. I just have to ask you something, and I think it has to be face-to-face" Quinn didn't like the tone in Rachel's voice, her own throat becoming dry as the conversation turned down a more sour path than she'd hoped. Though at the same time, she wasn't sure of why she was so desperate to even speak to Rachel. It wasn't just because Quinn was lonely and believed she'd found a friend, since deep down she was aware that whatever Rachel was to her, it wasn't a friend. It was because whenever she thought of Rachel it was like someone turned a huge watt bulb on and everything made sense – everything had a purpose. And as majestic as that was, it was also because without that spark of light Quinn was in the darkness. Something that she feared even more than her desire to enjoy the brightness.

"I don't think I can go to the office again today.." the blonde finally answered.  
"Not at the office. I need to see you somewhere else."

"Like where?" Quinn asked, but something in her tone reminded her off her old self. The Quinn before Paul, the Quinn whose dad left, the Quinn that was scared and depended on people – she didn't want that Quinn to ever breathe again. She quickly cleared her throat and pushed through a more nonchalant sounding question of why Rachel wanted to talk, a comment that made Rachel's throat grow tight and her chest heave a little.

"I need to ask you something" the brunette finally said. Quinn flashed her eyes to catch a glance of the clock and realised that time was running out, Paul would be there soon. She quickly pushed through a 'mm' for Rachel to continue. "Did you send me those flowers?" The brunette demanded with more courage than Quinn had ever witnessed from her before. She almost floundered at the question, her pulse sparking up at the bluntness of it. Honesty was something that she craved, and through all the lying of the society that surrounded her, it was more than refreshing. But Quinn couldn't give up her cool just quite yet, even if the battle was against herself.

"Did _you_ send me _my_ flowers?" She replied in the exact same tone.

"Yes but that's different – Paul asked me to"

"Well-" The sentence that sparked in Quinn's mind played in her lips. She could easily play the game just as well as all the other ladies she had lunch with. In that one moment she could tell Rachel that Paul asked her to send them to her as a thank you or as a welcome to the office. In that moment she could finish whatever infatuation that was growing between the two lost souls. In that moment she could continue being Mrs Draper and bake another cake and join another school society. But in that moment the only thing that she finally said before hanging up was "8pm. Left gate of central park"

* * *

Saying goodbye to the children was worse than Quinn had feared. The moment that she finally closed the large oak door and sent them away to a better life, at least for the mean time, she was forced to recite to herself it was for the best over and over again. The only thought that brought her back to life was of Rachel once again. As Quinn entered her bedroom she walked straight into the wardrobe to be met with the familiar smell of her sweet perfume, with a slight trace of that old wood spray they used to use for the moths. She was sure that she'd gotten rid of that black dress a long time ago, but there it hung at the back of an old row. As she pulled out the soft silky material she knew deep down that this was hardly the occasion to wear it, but then realised she'd never really have an occasion for it again. It symbolized everything that Quinn had given up, all for this living hell. She ran her fingers against the low but respectful cut of the number, and as she crushed the material softly to her chest the infusions of a perfume she'd must've worn years ago pressed to her skin. With a indulgent but sad smile she slipped into the black dress and did her own zip up. She recalled how she'd always used to call Paul in to help her do that, he was never very good with it – he was also better with the undoing part. Quinn couldn't help but laugh at how naive her marriage had been, especially considering how short lived the whole thing was – though it was still continuing in that very moment. She remembered how one evening he called her Amber, and instead of shouting and screaming at him she just pressed her eyes tightly shut and ignored it. It seemed that was all she used to do, ignore it till it went away. But it didn't go away, no matter how much she wanted to.

Quinn finally settled on a pair of pearl earrings instead of the various diamonds that clattered her jewellery boxes, only because those were the only items that Paul hadn't bought her. They were her mothers, and even Judy was better than Paul in Quinn's books. When Quinn finally took the last hair curler out of her smooth ash blond locks she felt a familiar face shine bright back at her out of the mirror, and she couldn't help but smile faintly. It was a shame to cover everything up with the dark winter trench coat that she'd bought last fall, but deep down (and though she wasn't exactly conscious to it), Quinn hoped that someone would open her up this cold winters night. It was exactly five minutes to eight when she arrived in the town car by the elaborately lit gates of Central Park, and she couldn't help but feel pleased with her timing.

fifteen minutes passed in the darkness of New York City. Fifteen minutes that felt like a lifetime to Quinn. The large clock that stood tall on one of the skyscrapers taunted her with every minute that went by; with every minute that Rachel didn't arrive. Quinn could feel her face grow cold with the ferocious sharp winds that hit it, her gloves unable to keep the winter out from her still injured fingers. With every heavy breathe and glance up at that stupid clock Quinn felt more and more demoralised, craving for Rachel to show up more eagerly with every passing minute. When the clock struck half past she felt like a fool for waiting in the cold, but not a fool enough to flag down a taxi and go all the way back to her prison. When the brunette in the dusty red coat made her way up to her Quinn thought about pinching herself just to make sure it was real.

"You came" Quinn said quietly in the midst of the passersby. It wasn't exactly crowded, but they were definitely not alone, especially with the busy streets so close by.

"I'm sorry that I'm late, something kept me at the office"  
"It's okay" Quinn said with a soft smile playing up on her frozen lips. The sight of it making a small grin beam onto Rachel's own lips. "So how was your day?"

"Don't" the brunette stopped her, a little shrug rolling of her shoulders as her nose crinkled whilst she shook her head. "I mean, you don't have to ask me that. I know you didn't invite me here to talk about the office" Rachel raised her own eyebrows causing Quinn's gaze to instinctively flee to the pavement. "So it was you, you did give me the flowers, didn't you?" Rachel continued. Quinn admired Rachel's courage, but perhaps it was because what Rachel feared was Mrs Draper. A woman that in all sincerity did not exist. Rachel was knocking down Quinn's walls with such force that the blonde hardly had time to regain her stature, something that she was taught to always have but never really wanted. With a deep silent sigh Quinn let the walls come down, since they weren't guarding much anyways.

"Yes, okay fine – I gave you the flowers"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"  
"Why did you give me the flowers?" Rachel asked again, her eyes intently staring at Quinn as she came closer, it seemed that the tables had turned from the previous night. A flood of anxiety threatened to take over Quinn with this new lack of control, it was only fought off by the fact that part of her was passionately thrilled by it.

"They were a thank you" the blonde retaliated, also taking a step closer.

"Thank you for what?"

"God Rachel they were just a token of my appreciation, can we just leave it at that?" Quinn hissed back, her ego regaining its strength. She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, her eyes pleading Rachel to not leave it at that. Her wish was granted.

In that split moment something in Rachel broke. It didn't crumble or shatter, it did the opposite. A flame that once flickered calmly roared into a force to be reckoned with. Every though that Rachel had had during the last few days, every question about herself that Rachel had struggled with growing up, every desire and every fear poured fuel onto this little fire that now glistened and singed with a deep amber power. Quinn had struck a match and Rachel had come to life.

"No. No we can't. Because somehow you figured out that lilies are my favourite flower, and somehow you made me _feel _things that I guess I ought not to feel – and I know you felt it too, didn't you? The way you touched me in the car, it was different – and I really just can't stop thinking about you and that's not okay with me because I don't understand why. And I'm not just going to leave it at that because you're the most beautiful and powerful and majestic woman I've ever met and instead of wanting to _be_ you I just want to-" Rachel Berry's voice was stopped by the only thing on this planet with the power to do so, Quinn's lips. She didn't crush the brunettes frame against her like Paul did, she didn't push or force herself onto her mouth, she didn't do anything that was less than perfect. Quinn kissed her like she wanted to be loved, it was slow and it was vulnerable, it was everything that Quinn wasn't but at the same time everything that Rachel saw hidden behind her eyes. When the soft pink lips finally parted from Rachel's own, the brunette just blinked through her dark lashes a couple of times in awe, still able to taste Quinn's lipstick. Rachel thought that she'd only have more questions now, that she'd need a full written explanation and justification for every single one of Quinn's actions – but somehow the blonde told her everything and more in that single kiss. The blonde offered a hopeful crooked smile on those lips that Rachel already missed the feel of. It felt as if she was meeting Quinn for the very first time, and in a way she was.

"To new beginnings" the blonde finally managed in a tender whisper, glancing at the clock before looking back at Rachel with an apologetic gaze. Instinctively Rachel knew exactly what the time read, it meant that the moment that held her first kiss had to be over. But to Rachel's sweet surprise she was rejoined with Quinn's touch as the girl laced her fingers with Rachel's own to give it a squeeze of reassurance before she disappeared into the streets of the city. Somehow Quinn managed once again to tell Rachel everything by saying nothing, and this time the message was loud and clear. This was the start of something life changing.

If only they knew how much of an understatement that was.


	7. The Escape Plan

"What are you so happy about?" Amber asked, arching her perfectly lined eyebrows from behind her magazine. It was 11am which was usually around the time everyone had coffee breaks, even though Amber genuinely stopped working at around 10:30. If Rachel was honest with herself, the work here really wasn't so hard – though that didn't stop her proudly informing every one of her family members about her new career.

"Oh, nothing" The brunette replied absent-mindedly, more preoccupied with her thoughts than anything else. Ever since last night it seemed as if her mind wouldn't give the kiss a rest – though she could hardly complain about it. It was as if every time she thought about it again she recalled small aspects of it she must've skipped over. They were little things, like the way that Quinn smiled into the kiss, or the touch of her silk glove – even the smell of her shampoo. Though they were tiny and perhaps insignificant things they were still important to her, undoubtedly the most precious of her thoughts.

"You're seeing someone, aren't you?" Amber's face lit up with the promise of new gossip, but her accusation led Rachel to retaliate a sharply defensive no. "So you're telling me that no one in the office catches your fancy, even in the slightest?"

"Well, no. Not really" Rachel replied, a little less on edge. There was no chance of Amber knowing about her and Quinn, and she'd like to keep it that way.

"What about Mitch?" Amber prodded further, this time putting down the magazine. Rachel shook her head with an expression of disgust, causing Amber to roll her eyes. "Alright, alright. So maybe you're into the older guys – Salvatore?"

"No" Rachel reiterated once more, Amber's frustration only grew.

"Paul?"

"No! Amber he's _married_"

"Didn't stop him before" Amber snorted.

"Yes but I'm not that kind of girl"

"And what, you're saying that I am?"

Rachel paused, slight confusion playing up on her expression. If Amber was saying what Rachel thought she was, it definitely changed a lot.

"I don't follow" The brunette started, clearing her throat a little and finally applying all attention to the woman that couldn't seem to leave Rachel's desk. "Are you saying that you and Paul..." she prompted with her eyebrows to insinuate what she didn't want to say out loud. Amber's lips pressed into a tight thin line at Rachel's words.

"I told you how the office works, and I gather by now you know what Paul's like. So don't ask me things like that. But no, _okay_, I haven't. And not because I didn't try, trust me if you get into Paul's good books you won't have to ever type again – I didn't because he's well..._picky_" Amber shimmied in her seat and straightened up her posture, perhaps since what she was about to say conflicted with her ego "Paul chooses you, you don't choose him - no matter how much you try. That fling last week with Sarah – it caught _everyone _off guard. He only picks the best of the best, and let's just say he had to have been pretty desperate to settle on her" the curvaceous woman concluded with an indignant frown, bitter about the past between her and the man. But Rachel couldn't concentrate on Amber's role in this situation; she was too fixated on her words – '_The best of the best'. _Rachel never counted herself as _too _insecure, but she was definitely content with the fact that whatever she was, it wasn't the best of anything. So if she was the chosen one, what exactly did that mean? Was that one kiss the start of some horrible spiral? Would she have to choose between her autonomy and her job? Would she loose Quinn before she even had her?

"Excuse me" Rachel blustered out as she ran from her desk and straight to the ladies toilets. Slamming the cubicle door behind her she hunched over the toilet bowl just in time to avoid a catastrophe. As she stayed on the bathroom floor with sharp tears threatening to pierce her eyes and now an anxiously upset stomach, she almost couldn't hear the light tapping on the cubicle door.

"H-hello?" She answered to the noise, wanting to be left alone. Curiously though she took a look through the bottom of the door and was met with an unfamiliar pair of shoes. Actually, they were quite similar to her own.

"Are you okay?" A small voice asked, and Rachel didn't have the heart to tell her to leave. Flushing the toilet once more she stood up and adjusted her clothes a little before leaving the stall. She walked straight to the sink by the mirror and washed her hands before even looking at the girl. When her eyes finally saw her through the reflection of the mirror, she was definitely taken by surprise. The girl behind her didn't look anything like the other women in the office, in fact, she looked even more out of place than Rachel did on her first day. Her quilted skirt nearly dragged on the floor, clinging loosely to her barren frame. The girls pale skin looked sickly underneath the lemon yellow shirt and her thickly framed glasses hid a pair of anxious plain grey eyes. The girl nervously stared at Rachel as she plucked up the courage to repeat the question once more.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking" Rachel replied whilst turning around to properly face the girl. "Do you work here?" she asked hesitantly, her eyebrows rising curiously. The girl nodded and Rachel's face twisted with further confusion. "...I haven't seen you before?"

"Oh I don't work out in the office" She replied in a mousy voice, her eyes flickering between her shoes and Rachel. "I'm round the back, by the telecom. It's just the little room by the left. My names Sophie"

"I'm Rachel, it's nice to meet you Sophie. Oh and I'm new, that's why I was asking" Rachel added, just so she didn't seem rude, especially since she was already taking a liking to the shy girl.

"I know. You're Mr Draper's new secretary. You're much nicer than the old one" Sophie guiltily admitted before looking a little scared at having said something she perhaps shouldn't have. "Please don't tell anyone I said that"

"I won't" Rachel shook her head in promise, a light smile appearing on her lips. "Anyways, I ought to get back to work, but whenever you're on your next break just come over and visit me. First desk on the right from his office" she said with another friendly smile before exiting the bathroom and going straight to the water machine to flush out the horrid taste on her mouth.

Rachel was actually enjoying the cool drink as well as the prosper of a new friendship with Sophie, that was until her little bubble of calm was pierced by the ferocious charge of Amber towards her. Amber stared at Rachel with a menacing look that caused the brunette to carefully put down her drink and wait until she justified her outraged expression.

"Liar" Amber snapped with wide eyes, Rachel wasn't sure if she was joking or not as there was a smile on the older woman's face, but either way she had no idea what Amber was talking about. Perhaps the woman could read Rachel's bewildered expression as she took no time to continue "You win, you honestly had me fooled that there's no man in your life, but Rachel Berry the fates are against you"

"Amber I don't know what you're talking about" the brunette replied with full sincerity, feeling a little cornered by the water dispenser whilst feeling the eyes of the entertained ladies all around her.

"Oh okay, so how do you explain _that_" Amber accused, her knife sharp gaze flinging from Rachel to her desk, forcing the brunette's eyes to trail that direction to. Amidst the blushing and floundering ladies of the office stood a handsome post man holding a parcel and a clipboard, waiting exactly by Rachel's desk. Without taking time to answer anymore of Ambers pestering questions, Rachel hurried over to the desk and greeted the man with the delivery.

"Are you Rachel Berry?" He asked in a deeper tone than Rachel presumed he naturally had, probably in order to impress the vast crowd of flirtatious ladies.

"Yes, I am" The brunette nodded whilst accepting the pen the man offered and signing on the dotted line that he indicated on his paper. Before she knew it he was giving her a brown paper parcel with a small letter attached. Rachel could feel her body heat up with anticipation as she hoped and prayed it was from her. She was so excited that she almost opened the whole thing right there, the silence in the room being the only thing that stopped her. When Rachel looked up the entire office was staring at her – watching her every move and holding their breath in communal anticipation. She knew she couldn't open it in front of them all, there would be too many questions and too much suspicion. Besides, this was Quinn and hers little secret. Her cheeks blushed a deep crimson as she decided to put the package down, to the disappointment of the entire crowd. Amber glared suspiciously at her. Perhaps for the first time ever Rachel was glad to hear Paul's voice behind her asking to see him in his office.

When Rachel stepped inside the familiar lavishly furnished room she couldn't help but fear leaving her present outside there with the untrustworthy bustle of ladies. However, Paul had a presence around them that was so menacing that Rachel's attention was quickly, and undesirably, averted.

"Please, have a seat" he indicated with one hand towards the seating area. Obligingly Rachel did as she was told, perching on one end of the sofa. "Drink?" Paul offered, pouring his own glass of scotch and flinging in two ice cubes.

"No thank you, Mr Draper" Rachel answered in a soft tone, her gaze analysing each pattern on the carpet instead of looking at him.

"You can call me Paul, you know" he said, that familiar tone causing Rachel's body to tense up in a fleeting sense of entrapment. Amber's words played up again in the back of her mind. _Best of the best_.

"That's okay, Mr Draper" Rachel pushed through clenched teeth, managing as much respect as she could fathom. To her disappointment his footsteps trailed towards her from his desk until he was standing right in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. Regrettably she did.

"You know, Rachel – there's something different about you. I like that." He took another sip and the clanging of the ice cubes and glass sent unnerving shivers of fear down Rachel's spine. She wanted to close her eyes and leave, but she knew she couldn't. "Even though I expected you to be a little more thankful"

"Thankful, sir?" She asked, hiding the nerves in her voice and focusing on thoughts outside of those four walls. She thought about Quinn once more, how she gave her hope, how she made her happy, how anything between them could happen. She felt slightly more secure.

"Well I don't know how they do it in Brooklyn, but here in New York most people usually say thank you when they receive a present" he sneered as he took a seat on the arm chair to Rachel's right, his gaze never leaving hers. She thought about the way that Quinn smelt in the car, the way that she held that cigarette, the way that her hair cascaded onto her milky complexion.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Mr Draper. What present?" But as soon as the words left her lips all hope came crashing down as Rachel already knew the answer to that. She already understood that the brown parcel outside the door did not come from Quinn, but her husband. She felt as if she'd crushed a glass in her hands as disappointment and fear fought inside of her.

"You didn't open it?" He asked, enjoying watching Rachel squirm but at the same time having a mask over his face which just made her feel even more uneasy. Her hands grew cold as she gripped the end of the sofa and shook her head in reply. "Well, you can open it tonight then" Paul continued, putting his glass down on the hard wooden side table.

"Thank you for my present" Rachel managed to squeeze out even though everything inside of her pleaded her not to. She had to keep this job. She had to stay in the city. If not for herself, for Quinn. An unholy deep chuckle made its way from Paul causing Rachel to finally pull herself together and look at him.

"Words are great and all, but I'm more of an action man. They really do speak louder" He added with a subtle nod, his eyes grazing over Rachel. Slowly he pulled himself up and demolished the short distance that they had between them, causing every muscle in Rachel's body to freeze with fear of anticipation. She remembered when she had to play football in school; it was a rare event for the girls to be allowed to play, but a compulsory one at that. The ball was strong and it was flying straight towards her, she knew it was coming, she knew it was too late to move, and instead all she could do was tense to lessen the impact. Paul didn't touch her, instead he lay down a business card on the coffee table in front of her.

"What is this?" Rachel asked, a puzzled expression painted on her face as she looked up at him and then back at the card. It had some fancy French name on it written in calligraphy, finally she spotted an English word that she understood, and regrettably it was 'hotel'.

"Tonight - at seven." Paul said as he walked away from her without another look, returning to sit behind his desk. "That is all" he concluded, three words that made Rachel get up faster than she ever had in her whole entire life. Just as her fingers gripped the door handle his voice stopped her once again. "And Rachel, make sure you wear red"

She didn't wait for him to say another word before she escaped through the door.

When Rachel came back into the office no one even tried to pretend that they weren't attempting to listen to every word. Amber sat smugly on Rachel's desk, the parcel playing in her hands as she smirked back at Rachel.

"The king has chosen" the seductive woman said with a mixture of bitter admiration, but Rachel didn't stop to reply or to defend herself – instead she just grabbed the parcel and stormed through the office, only stopping at the cloak room before charging out of the building. When she found the nearest trash can she plunged the unopened parcel into it and continued marching down the street not stopping to breathe, her old red coat bopping along with every furious step she took. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a piece of paper elegantly float out of her pocket and land on the dusty street. With an air of confusion the brunette retraced her steps and picked up the small parchment, holding it in her hands in confusion. It was a line of numbers, a phone number in fact – in the only cursive that she held dear to her – Quinn's handwriting. Rachel ran to the nearest phone booth that she could find, plunged in the scraps of change that lay buried in her bag, and stabbed in the numbers with a fleeting sense of urgency. The dial tone rang as Rachel pressed the phone tightly to her face, her eyes squeezing shut as she waited to hear her voice.

"Quinn?" She exclaimed down the line as soon as the other side picked up, but it wasn't her blond on the other side of the phone. The woman on the telephone explained in her New Orleans drawl that Mrs Draper was out and would be back before five. Though Rachel never thought of herself as a rude person, she did however hang the phone down without a single word as she hopelessly stepped outside of the booth. The only person in the world that could make Rachel feel better was nowhere to be found. Not only that, but in only seven hours Rachel would be forced into a hotel room with a man she despised more than anything else in the whole entire world. A sinking feeling buried into her stomach as she miserably walked back to the office, knowing that she had nowhere else to go. With a sense of defeat Rachel returned to the tall building that once promised her a new successful life, and was now a prison of her own accord. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn't hear the woman calling her name from behind her. But then again, it was no ordinary woman.

"Rachel!" Quinn repeated once again in another exasperated call as she made her way through the open door of the building and straight to the middle of the foyer where the brunette stood. "I came as fast as I could" the blonde managed in between catching her breath from the run. "Are you okay?" She said as she watched Rachel's bewildered expression.

"Wait, how did you know?" Rachel asked, her brows furrowed in confusion but at the same time her heart pounding with a new found security. With Quinn she felt safe.

"The parcel" The blond said swallowing hard and nodding "That's what he does, it always starts with a parcel." The way that Quinn spoke it made it seem like everything was crystal clear, but Rachel still stood there confused, not quite catching onto Quinn's quick thinking. "Don't you see, it always starts with a gift, that's what he does. I knew there wasn't anyone left in the office that he would pursue, so the only feasible answer was – well..._you_" her golden green eyes shone brightly in desperation for Rachel to understand, slowly the pieces started to fit together and Rachel nodded as she began to figure it out as well. Quinn worked out who Paul wanted as his own mistress, and it was the same woman that she desired in more ways than one. The blonde placed two reassuring hands firmly on Rachel's shoulder and sighed with a smile. "It'll be fine, we'll work something out"

"It won't, he wants me to go to this hotel Quinn, and I tried saying no- I _tried_" Rachel felt herself tremble a little no matter how strong Quinn's hold was. None the less there was a sense of power in the other girl's glare that made Rachel feel like there was a way out of it. But then something changed, like a flickering flame being blown out by one gust of wind Quinn's expression dropped immediately.

"Tried? He's done this before? Rachel did her hurt you?" She demanded in a tone of fury, and even though the brunette was aware that Quinn wasn't mad at her but her husband, she couldn't help but experience her wrath. She almost wanted to lie and saying he didn't, but silence was confirmation enough. Quinn pulled Rachel into her arms into a soft embrace, and even though the members of the foyer did look little curious and weren't shy to stare – neither of them cared. "Rachel" Quinn suddenly whispered into the girls hair and the brunette realized there was more to this hug than just a sign of compassion. It was the only way she could tell Rachel something that no one else would hear. "I have a plan, but you have to trust me, okay?" Quinn continued, and Rachel nodded, a motion that replied 'with all my heart'. "I'll be back here by six, just trust me" Quinn added before finally pulling away and smiling at Rachel brightly as any housewife would smile to a fellow one.

"Goodbye" Quinn concluded with a beaming smile of pretense Rachel did the same as they finished their performance and parted separate ways. But as Rachel made her way back up to the office she wasn't scared anymore, because even though she did trust Quinn for other reasons – the girl's confident glare would've convinced anyone. And it wasn't a lie either, because Quinn did have a plan – she still had one card left to play, a card that would solve all of Rachel's problems. Quinn would give Paul the only thing he desired more than a mistress or a wife combined, she would give him another child. A child that to only her and Rachel's knowledge would be as existent as their love for Paul himself.


End file.
